


Who's Counting The Time (When We Got It For Life)

by brokenstereotype



Category: Crankiplier - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: F/M, FTM Ethan, M/M, Smut with a healthy side of fluff, failed role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28621413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenstereotype/pseuds/brokenstereotype
Summary: Love confessions can wait. Orgasms can not.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor, Markiplier/CrankGameplays
Comments: 5
Kudos: 126





	Who's Counting The Time (When We Got It For Life)

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to make the title a random Unus Annus quote, but then i got sad reminiscing about what once was.

“He hates me. Like full on  _ actual  _ hate for me.” Ethan emphasizes, tossing his backpack onto the computer chair.

“I think he wants you,” He decides and Mark raises his eyebrows curiously. “I caught him watching one of your videos a few weeks ago and ever since, he's had some kind of out for me.”

He's pissed and tired from the long day at university and he flops onto the bed - shoes and all still on.

“Maybe he's offended because you have tits but won't fuck him.” Mark offers.

Ethan makes a disgusted noise in his throat. “I wouldn't let him touch me even if it meant i  _ wouldn't  _ flunk his class.” Which he is going to. Because Mr. Dick Face hates him and wants to fuck his boyfriend.

Mark hums in contemplation, “Would you let  _ me  _ touch you if it meant you wouldn't fail my class?”

Ethan, on the verge of a mid day nap, scrunches his face and mumbles, “What? You dropped out of college to be a Youtuber - why would i take your class?”

Mark’s hand lands on his ankle and it makes him jump, but he peeks his eye open to look at Mark’s determined face.

“You haven't turned in any of your last three assignments,” Mark starts to rub his ankle, fingers creeping up the inside of his jeans. Ethan watches, speechless, brain trying to catch up to what Mark is setting the scene for.

“You always seem so distracted in class - something taking your attention away from the lesson?” 

Mark’s voice is low and inviting, the voice he always uses to turn Ethan on. That, combined with the steady motion of Mark’s hand rubbing along his skin has Ethan’s belly swimming and warmth to start throbbing between his legs.

“You-” He tries to say, but his voice has abandoned him. He sits up, spreading his legs a little wider and relishes in the dirty smile Mark gives him at that.

“What was that?” Mark teases, pulling his hand away. Ethan nearly whines at the loss.

“You distract me.” He says. Ignores the urge to slip his fingers underneath his underwear. 

Mark laughs, pleased and begins to remove Ethan’s shoes, his socks and then kneeling on the bed by his side. 

“Well, since it's apparently  _ my  _ fault you're failing - maybe i should make it up to you.” Mark says and then leans down to kiss him. It's filthy from the start, all tongues and lips and a bite of teeth against his bottom lip when Mark pulls back.

Getting Ethan’s pants off is not especially  _ sexy  _ per se - it's a giant tangle of limbs and near kicks to Mark’s face. They pause to laugh helplessly against each other, Mark’s face pressed to his belly and Ethan’s unrestrained giggles filling the room.

They get there in the end, Mark tossing the conquered clothing to the floor in a feat of victory and laying down beside Ethan’s exposed legs. 

“So,” Mark says, ghosting a fingertip along his skin. “What exactly about me distracts you?”

Ethan rolls his eyes, but there's no heat behind it. He knows this isn't Mark fishing for compliments, more so just trying to get back to the task at hand.

“Your hands.” He says.

Mark’s eyebrow twitches in amusement and he wraps his palm around his calf, fingers squeezing briefly and Ethan licks his lips.

“Your lips.” He continues.

Mark presses a kiss to his thigh, where the edge of his briefs meets his skin. Ethan squeezes his thighs together and feels that familiar throbbing intensifying.

“Your voice.” His own loses its volume, the air in his lungs drying as it hits his lips. 

Mark  _ hmmm _ ’s that sexy way he does when he gets aroused. Fuck Ethan’s so turned on.

“Is that all?” Mark prompts.

Ethan doesn't know what to say. Mark distracts him daily, but more than the ways he had already said.

It's in the way Mark rubs his belly when he feels ill. The way he stands between Ethan’s legs when he's sitting on the counter top eating ice cream straight out of the carton - opening his mouth when Ethan offers him every other bite. 

When he listens to Ethan’s incessant rambling about whatever topic he's fixated on for the month, smiling dopily as he spirals out of control.

Mark distracts him by the way he loves him.

_ Ugh _ . Why did Ethan decide to take psychology as his minor.

“When you stand at the chalkboard and all i can think about is you fucking me against it.” He says instead. 

Love confessions can wait. Orgasms can not.

Mark smiles, all teeth and one hundred percent predatory. He moves his hand to where Ethan is already wet through his briefs and he presses the pad of his thumb to where he knows his clit is.

“So wet for me.” Mark observes. Ethan nods his head, letting his thighs fall open. 

It feels so dirty the way Mark spreads his wetness around his briefs, circling his clit and reveling in the noises it punches out of Ethan.

He sneaks a finger to his hole, pushing the fabric in and just the implication of his fingers inside of him has Ethan whimpering out a broken moan.

“Please baby.” He whines. He'll beg all Mark wants if it means he'll do something more. 

“What do you want, gorgeous?” Mark digs his thumb harder against his clit, not even giving Ethan a second to respond from his breathless torture.

He pulls at Ethan’s briefs, until Ethan just barely musters the strength to raise his hips so Mark can shimmy them down his legs. 

“ _ Damn. _ ” Mark curses, bringing the tips of his fingers through the wetness between Ethan’s thighs. He sticks them in his mouth with a groan, not even checking to see if Ethan is watching. Which - of course he is.

“Mark,” Ethan moans. His hips rock on their own nature, searching for some kind of friction. 

Mark moves his hand back to Ethan’s soaking wet pussy, the first push of a finger in his hole making a truly disgusting squelch. He's so wet, he can feel it dripping passed his ass and onto the bed sheets below.

Mark fucks his finger in and out leisurely, just giving Ethan a taste of what's to come.

In the past, Ethan never really got anything out of being finger fucked. It was more of a hassle rather than pleasure - trying desperately to feel something good and getting so goddamn bored of fake moaning. 

But, with Mark, it's amazing. Fantastic. Leg shakingly good - and so many more adjectives he doesn't have the brain power to articulate. Mark’s got these thick and long fingers and he knows how to use them. It's not at all like being stabbed repeatedly in the vagina like with the others. He remembers what Ethan likes and what he doesn't and puts little stars next to what makes Ethan’s body jump.

Mark starts a steady pace of his finger fucking in and out of Ethan’s lax body, crooking and searching for the hidden spots that make Ethan moan and writhe on the bed. 

“Does that feel good baby?” Mark asks. It has to be rhetorical, since Ethan is basically a mess of moaning-nonsensical noises and starfishing along the sheets. He moans brokenly anyways, bending his knee out so Mark can have more room.

“ _ Oooh  _ \- your fingers.” Ethan practically sings when Mark slides his middle finger in next to his pointer on the next thrust in. It's a stretch and it always takes a few minutes for the uncomfortable ache to subside and the pleasure to take over - but once it does...  _ holy hell _ .

“Say my name, baby.” Mark says as he fucks his two fingers in and out fast as fuck. Ethan can barely  _ breathe  _ let alone string along a complete exchange of vowels and consonants. 

But, well. If there's anything he's known for, it's his persistent force of will.

“ _ Mmm _ ,” He moans. “Hello everybody, my name is Markiplier.” He makes sure to make the words roll off his tongue in tangles of lust and pleasure.

Mark’s fingers go dead still on the next thrust. When Ethan opens his eyes, Mark’s eyes are narrowed but his lips are struggling to stay in a firm line. God, he loves Ethan so much to put up with his shit - it makes Ethan even more turned on somehow.

“You're not funny.” Mark says, but his amused grin contradicts his claim.

“Your dick’s not funny.” Ethan counters. Just to say dick. So Mark will maybe think with it again instead.

“Bet i can make you squeal though,” Mark challenges and  _ blessedly  _ moves his fingers again, crooking and angling until -

“Sweet merciful hallelujah-” Ethan rejoices, back arching off of the bed and annoyingly he does squeal like a fucking goob. Mark grins in victory. 

He doesn't stop though, fucking Ethan on his fingers hard and fast, the wet sounds his fingers make fill the room and only serve to make Ethan even wetter. 

“How do you think your classmates would feel, hm? You hanging off of my fingers, soaking the sheets with how good I make you feel.”

Ethan can only moan, on the verge of tears from the overwhelming emotions taking over his body. He might cum. Maybe. It’s still too early to tell.

Feels fucking fantastic, though.

“I want to fuck you, baby.” Mark says. “Want to feel your soaking wet pussy on my cock. Want to drown in it.” 

The thing with dirty talk is - It does little for Ethan. He often finds himself holding back laughs at the absurdity of it all. But with Mark, a few choice filthy words is usually all it takes to get him going. He thinks that he's doing it for Ethan’s sake - the dirty talk, but really it just riles him up until he's rock hard and ready to go.

Ethan licks his lips, takes a deep breath, savors the feeling of Mark’s fingers inside of him and pushes Mark back by the chest. 

His dick is tenting the front of his shorts and Ethan revels in the breathy moan Mark lets out when he brushes the tip with his knee. And then the sharp intake when Ethan wraps his hand around the length of it. Just to touch. He's fidgety. He likes to touch things.

Mark rocks his hips like his shorts will magically fall down on their own, or that Ethan will not be a tease for once in his life and actually move his hand. So far, he's zero for two.

Taking matters into his own hand -  _ heh _ , Mark removes the shorts and slowly jacks his own dick for a few strokes, staring down at Ethan laying out below him.

“So good for me. Not so distracted now that you have something to focus on, hm?” 

Ethan doesn't answer, transfixed on the image of Mark’s dick sliding in and out of the grip of his hand. It's like peek-a-boo, but make it sexy.

Ethan -  _ just barely _ \- refrains from ruining the mood by breaking out his baby voice. Mark will thank him later.

Or now.

Mark shuffles his knees forward until he can knock Ethan’s legs open even wider. His eyes are trained on his target - which gushes under his attention. They should have put a towel down.

When Mark lines his dick up, Ethan’s right leg crooks out in response and when he slides in, it's like heaven.

Wet, squishy heaven.

It's intense the way Mark maintains eye contact as he pounds into Ethan like it's a level to beat. Ethan can't look away, can only hold onto Mark’s hips and try to breathe evenly. He moans and Mark moans in response and then they're basically communicating in grunts until Ethan lets out a caveman  _ hoo  _ and Mark loses it.

His dick pops out and they take a moment to get their chuckles out. In a true testament to how wet Ethan is, Mark slides his dick back in with no guidance whatsoever. Both of their laughs die out as their mouths drop around silent pleasure, Mark sliding in and all the way out until the tip is resting just at his lips, waiting a beat and then sliding all the way back inside.

Ethan’s next  _ hoo  _ is more of a drawn out breath than anything.

His thrusts get sloppy, but he gets back on track, smiling so beautifully down at Ethan like he's where he is most happiest.

Okay. That settles it.

“Move.” Ethan says. Mark’s eyebrows spiral out of control in confusion, dick sliding out of Ethan with more juice on it than a popsicle. 

Mark tries to touch Ethan - his arm, face, anything. Ethan pushes him around until he falls onto his back on the mattress.

“Could have just said you wanted to ride me.” Mark says, grabbing onto Ethan’s thighs as he straddles him.

Ethan sticks his tongue out at him.

Sitting on Mark’s dick is one of Ethan’s favorite past times. It's comfortable and he can watch Mark’s eyes roll to the back of his head this way.

He bounces for a few thrusts, gyrating his hips and letting Mark feel every inch of his pussy. It's so empowering reducing Mark to this moaning mess where all he can do is rock his hips up.

Which is precisely what he does. They set a rhythm up where Mark fucks up as Ethan comes down and it's good, it's fine.

Ethan brings his knees up until his feet are planted on the mattress, anchors his hands onto Mark’s thighs behind him and  _ hoooooomygod.  _ Level up achieved.

“Oh god, yes.” Mark starts chanting It over and over, praising Ethan and his pussy power. It feels so fucking good to sit on Mark’s dick - tip to base, repeatedly until he can feel his orgasm building.

Mark is apparently close as well, hands cradling Ethan’s ass and helping him basically do squats on his dick. It's hard to pick up speed - even years of gymnastics couldn't have prepared him for this assault on his thighs. 

Ethan hangs his head back, closes his eyes and just enjoys the ride. Mark’s dick feels so fucking good and he knows he's babbling sonnets about it but he doesn't  _ care _ , he's so close. His legs are shaking.

Mark curses, starts saying  _ baby  _ and  _ love  _ and  _ fuck  _ in various sequences. He fucks his hips up fast and hard, bringing his thumb to Ethan’s clit and rubs it so good and tender. 

Ethan’s orgasm is a slow build, those ones that start off mild but build the more you ignite it. He's riding the waves of pleasure, ignoring the warm wetness sticking him and Mark together every time they separate.

Mark’s orgasm hits him hard, takes over his entire body until he sounds like he's on his dying breath. He fucks Ethan through it, though his thumb really just kind of presses his clit now rather than rubbing it. 

When Mark stops twitching and Ethan can hear him breathing again, he falls off of Mark’s dick and flops onto his back beside him.

“Oh shit!” He jumps up, grimacing at the wet spot taking up the entire side of the bed. Mood killer, truly.

Mark laughs, poking a finger at it. 

“I'd say that earns an A.” He jokes.

Ethan purses his lips, adjusts his legs because his clit is still sensitive and he's trying to be serious.

“Baby, I am nothing less than an A plus.” He states. As he locates his underwear and Mark’s discarded shirt, he throws over his shoulder, “And i deserve extra credit for my riding skills.”

Mark laughs but doesn't disagree.


End file.
